


The Roaring Twenties

by the_technicolor_whiscash



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920’s AU, Alcohol, Drunkenness, Flowers, Kissing, M/M, No Smut, Parties, a gay book club, coming to terms with feelings, covering all the bases here, mentions of sex but it’s not actually written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 05:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18243233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_technicolor_whiscash/pseuds/the_technicolor_whiscash
Summary: In the 1920’s, Aziraphale runs into Crowley, who has been hosting large, boisterous parties at his house. After spending the night together, Aziraphale realizes that he has more than just a sexual interest in Crowley. But under the watchful eye of his superiors, can they ever make it work?





	The Roaring Twenties

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I’ve spent the last two days writing this and also not getting nearly enough sleep because I just had to get this done while I had the inspiration. Also I love the aesthetic of the 1920’s which you can probably tell considering this isn’t the only 1920’s au I’ve written for something.

The 1920’s. About 70 years before the almost-apocalypse. A time full of pomp and flash, slathered over the suffering of the poorer classes. A time when people held parties that dwarfed anything from the modern age. 

Like one such party that Aziraphale had ended up getting dragged to by a few acquaintances. He tried to avoid it, but there was really no valid excuses he could come up with. Plus, it was right next door to his own cottage, in a massive house that looked like it had been printed from a catalogue. 

He didn’t know his neighbors, but he knew they held loud, rollicking parties at least once a week, in which at least one drunk stumbled over to his house and threw up on his lawn. Really, humans needed to learn how to handle their alcohol. 

This thought was only reinforced as he walked through the throngs of people, everyone in different stages of drunkenness. In fact, he and the servants seemed to be the only people remotely close to sober. He realized it was probably time to change that, so he swiped a champagne bowl off of a tray and downed it in one go. 

He made his way out to the yard, where the party was really going. People were swimming in the pool fully clothed, a band played jazzy hits, and various alcoholic desserts were being served. 

As he walked past a group of tables, his foot caught on something, and he nearly tripped, but was caught by a figure dressed in black. 

“Woah. Watch it, there. Don’t want to- Aziraphale?”

Aziraphale looked at the face of his rescuer and froze. “Crowley? What are you doing here?” He realized he was still in the demon’s arms, and thus took a step back. 

“Causing a ruckus. It’s my party, after all.”

“Your party. Of course.” He silently cursed the people who invited him for not telling him who was hosting the party. And cursed himself, for not bothering to check who his neighbor was. “I didn’t know you were in America.”

“I love it here. There’s so many opportunities for temptations. Half the time, my work is already done for me.” 

“There’s quite a lot of good here too, if you know where to look. They sent me here just to give it a bit of a boost.”

“Where’re you living? Surely not this side of the city. It doesn’t fit your style.”

Aziraphale smirked. “Right next door, as a matter of fact.”

Crowley looked at the rooftop of another mansion over the treeline. “That place? Blimey, I never thought you the type.”

“Ah, no. Look down.”

“Down? There’s nothing there.”

“Between the trees.”

“I don’t… that little cottage right there?”

“Well done. You’ve found it.” 

“I had no idea you lived here. How long have you been here?”

“Since April.”

“So have I.” Crowley frowned. “Three months, and I had no idea an angel was living right next door to me. How could I have missed it?”

“In both of our defense, I’ve been trying to avoid your parties at all costs. I’m only here because some friends of mine decided to drag me here and then dump me for more interesting people.” 

“They don’t sound like great friends.”

“They’re not, really.”

“Want to get fried?”

“I really do. Though I won’t ask where you got the alcohol.”

Crowley grinned a snakelike grin. “I know a guy.”

“That’s what they all say.” 

Several gallons of alcohol later, Aziraphale found himself lounging atop a piano in a library, swirling around some sort of martini in his glass. 

“My, you do know how to throw a party, my dear.” He slurred. “I suppose my superiors won’t be too fond of my being here.”

“Ah, who cares about them.” Crowley’s head lolled onto Aziraphale’s shoulder. “We’re in the here and now, baby. They’re calling it the roaring twenties for a reason. Why not have a bit of fun?”

“That’s all fine and good for you, but-“ he hiccuped, “but I’m an angel. They don’t like it when I go on a toot.”

“Have they ever said anything about it?”

Aziraphale thought through the haze of extreme drunkenness. “I suppose not. But they always sound disappointed.”

“Aaaaangel.” Crowley traced the lines on the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “You’re such an alarm clock. Trying to ruin any semblance of fun you run into. Live a little!”

“It’s been six thousand years, I think I’ve lived quite a lot.” 

“There’s no sin in going to a party every once in a while.”

“I suppose it depends on what you do there.” A thought crossed Aziraphale’s mind. “Wait. Are you trying to tempt me?”

“Might be.”

“That’s rude! Trying to tempt me while I’m in… ineb… inebriated!” 

“Well, I’m… what you said too, so we’re even.” 

“But that’s not how it works.”

“Just shut up and enjoy the moment, angel.” Crowley’s hand had worked its way up to Aziraphale’s hair, and was now playing with one particularly curled strand. “Your hair is soft.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from leaning into Crowley’s hand. “I don’t grease it up all the time like you do.” He said halfheartedly. He was more focused on the fact that he was now a mere inches away from Crowley, and had Crowley’s lips always looked that nice? And oh, now they were kissing. 

Aziraphale knew, in the back of his mind, the risks of doing such a thing. But the back of his mind was currently swimming in a concoction made entirely of illegal alcohol, and thus did not weigh much against the fact that Crowley’s lips felt really, really good against his. And that Crowley’s other hand was now on his thigh. And his own hands were on Crowley’s lapel, holding him close. 

———————

A few hours later, Aziraphale awoke with the worst hangover he had had in centuries. Normally he managed to sober up before such a thing happened, but he had forgotten this time around. Fortunately, he simply miracled away the headache that was threatening to crack his skull open. 

It occurred to him that he was in a bed. A very large bed, compared to others. With an exceptionally fluffy down comforter. And silk sheets that were smooth under his totally naked body. And also that there was another person in bed with him. A lanky figure, that was currently latched to his side, snoring soundly. 

_Oh, no._ Aziraphale thought to himself, as a wave of dread crossed over him. _Don’t tell me I slept with-_

Crowley shifted, burying his head deeper under Aziraphale’s arm. The demon was still dead asleep, looking almost peaceful. 

As gently as he could, Aziraphale attempted to climb out of bed. But of course, the bed creaked, and one of Crowley’s serpentine eyes opened. “Angel, could you close the blinds?” Crowley muttered, closing his eye again. “I could do without the sun right now.”

“Just miracle away your hangover.” Aziraphale replied, at the risk of sounding blatantly rude. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“‘S too late now.” As Aziraphale tried again to slide away, Crowley threw an arm around his torso, locking him there. “Give me a little more time, before we say our goodbyes and promise never to talk about this again.”

“Fine. Five more minutes. Then I’m going.” Aziraphale crossed his arms. As much as he knew he should leave, there was some deeply-rooted desire within him that didn’t want to. He knew that, should anyone find out he not only had sex with a demon, but enjoyed it, and wanted to do it again would risk both his position on earth, and his position as an angel at all. 

After what felt like an eternity, Crowley muttered, “It’s been five minutes. Are you leaving or not?”

“I’m leaving.” Aziraphale slid out of bed and conjured up an outfit. “I’m sure you understand we’re never mentioning this again?”

“Yes, yes. Just like every other time.” 

Aziraphale was glad that Crowley’s eyes were closed, so that the demon couldn’t see the blush that crossed his face. Wordlessly, he left, closing the bedroom door behind him. Descending down the staircase, Aziraphale mentally kicked himself. No, this was not the first time they had had physical relations. When you have eternity, you get lonely. And when there’s someone else in your exact same situation, well, things happened. Repeatedly. Over several thousand years. It was becoming excessive. 

What he needed to do was spend some time away from Crowley. Which wasn’t going to happen, living right next to him. The demon would likely end up showing up on his doorstep, offering lunch, and next thing he knew he would be getting the best blowjob of his life. 

He was an angel. He should’ve been able to resist whatever temptations Crowley was trying to pull on him. But time and time again, he found himself wanting to be near the demon. Physically. Sexually. And it had nothing to do with temptation. 

He heard footsteps from behind him. “Angel, wait.” 

Aziraphale didn’t turn around. He simply stared at the door, a few feet ahead of him. “What is it?”

“Just give me this one last thing.” Muttered Crowley, still wearing nothing but the duvet. He placed a quick kiss on Aziraphale’s lips, and Aziraphale hated that he couldn’t help but kiss back. “Until next time.”

“I can’t keep doing this, Crowley. It’s too risky.” His hands, as though magnetized, worked their way onto Crowley’s chest. The wisps of dark hair tickled at his fingers. 

“I know, I know. But it’s been thousands of years. They must know by now.”

“Then they would’ve said something about it. Told me to stop, or...” He pulled himself away, back to the door. With a heavy sigh, he said, “Goodbye, Crowley.”

“Bye, angel.” There was a sadness in Crowley’s voice that couldn’t be hidden. 

And a deeply purveying sense of sadness and guilt crossed over Aziraphale. He hated this whole situation. Hated himself, for getting involved emotionally with a demon in the first place. Hated Crowley, for encouraging it for to continue. Hated Up Above, for not letting him know if they knew about it. Leaving him wondering every day if they would call him back up to heaven and make him pay for what he had done. 

Miserably, he put the tea kettle on. If nothing else, he could make tea. The old standby. 

He glanced out the window. Of course, Crowley’s massive house loomed through the trees. Turning around, he focused his attention on scientific drawings of flowers hung in frames haphazardly along the wall. 

The kettle screamed, and he poured it into one of his finer teacups. Taking it into the living room, he sipped it slowly while trying to build a treaty for his warring emotions. Picking up an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel, he found that he couldn’t focus. He never could, after spending the night with Crowley. The damned demon was just so… distracting. 

There was a knock on the door, shattering his concentration even further. He expected to see Crowley, but instead, it was a delivery man, holding a bouquet of flowers. 

“Got a bouquet here for a Mr…” the man squinted at the name on the card. “Azri… Azira…”

“Yes, that’s me️.” He said, putting the man out of his misery. The man handed him a bouquet, and he handed the man a fair tip before closing the door. 

He checked the tag on the flowers. In typed-out text it read, “Sorry, angel. -C” 

Aziraphale dropped the flowers on his table and sighed into his palm. The audacity that that man had was beyond compare. 

But of course, he couldn’t just let the flowers wilt on the table, so he left them in a vase and went into the city for the rest of the day. 

——————

For the next few days, there had been radio silence from Crowley. Aziraphale wondered if perhaps the demon really had decided to lay off for a while. It relaxed him, knowing he wouldn’t have to deal with him. 

At least, it did, until he ran into him at the Met. 

Aziraphale saw the demon’s recognizable hair from across a gallery, and instantly slipped away to another one. He worked his way through the other galleries, hoping to find a way out, but ended up looping right back to where he started. Walking directly into Crowley. 

“We just keep running into each other.” Crowley said, clearly thinking himself clever. 

“Ha ha. Give me a break.” 

“I’ve been trying to. Problem is, we like too many of the same things.” 

Aziraphale turned around and started back through the gallery, refusing to look at Crowley. Naturally, the demon followed him. “Leave me alone, Crowley.”

“Please, just let me say my piece, and I’ll let you go.” 

Finally, Aziraphale stopped. “Fine. What is it?”

“I know you said we need to stop doing this. I know you’re an angel, and I’m a demon, and this can never work. But I… I miss you. Every time we do this, I’m torn between just letting you be, and dragging you back to my house for more.” 

Aziraphale glanced around. There was a small, secluded hallway off to a side. He grabbed Crowley by the lapels, dragged him down the hall, and kissed him until he was nearly choking for breath. 

“I hate you.” Aziraphale muttered as he pinned the demon to the wall. “I hate the fact you’re everything I’m supposed to be against, and yet I can’t stop myself from wanting to be around you.”

“I thought angels were supposed to love everyone.” 

Aziraphale kissed him again, shutting him up. “That doesn’t have to extend to demons.”

“I want you.” 

“Yeah, well, too bad.” He slid a leg in between Crowley’s, and had to put a hand over the demon’s mouth to stifle a moan. “We can’t keep doing this.” 

He felt a tickle as Crowley licked Aziraphale’s hand with his snakelike tongue. It sent shudders through him, and he took a deep breath, steeling his emotions. 

“You’re infuriating. Just leave me alone.”

And with that, Aziraphale left him there. He walked all the way back to his cottage, slammed the door shut, and didn’t leave for three days. 

——————

“Really, I think Fitzgerald’s use of metaphor-“

Aziraphale had long tuned out of the ramblings of the book club. He had barely managed to get through this month’s latest book. 

“Azzie, what are your thoughts?” Asked a woman named Julie, who was, if Aziraphale was not mistaken, a jeweler. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, I liked it.” He stuttered out. 

An older woman, Diane, raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been distracted this whole meeting. What’s on your mind, boy?”

That was funny, coming from someone so much younger than himself. “I’ve just been having some, ah, relationship trouble is all.”

“You never mentioned you had a gal.” Said Tod, a Great War veteran missing half of his left leg. “Spill.”

Aziraphale felt himself go pink. “It’s not quite a gal, actually.” 

“A fella!” Diane gave him a friendly slap of the shoulder. “What’s his name?”

“Crowley.” 

Julie’s eyes widened. “Your neighbor?”

“Yes, him. We knew each other before, you see. Back in Britain. We… went to school together.” That was the best lie he could come up with, outside of outright giving away that they were immortal. “It’s been sort of on again-off again since then.”

“And this is causing problems?” Asked Julie. 

“Yeah, sort of. It’s just…” Aziraphale sighed. “I really like him. And I know I shouldn’t. He’s a scoundrel. A bootlegger. I don’t even know what else he does in the way of breaking the law, and at this point, I don’t even want to know.”

Tod nodded sagely. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a bad boy.” 

“I think he likes to think so, yes.”

“But you still like him.”

“It’s absurd, I know. I don’t even jaywalk. We are total opposites. But every time I’m away from him, my heart wants to be back by his side.”

“Sounds like you got it bad.” Julie patted him on the arm. “Who knew that by-the-books Aziraphale would be in love with a criminal?”

“It’s not love, really, it’s…” he paused. “Alright, maybe it is. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. But what do I do? I don’t want to get into trouble for being around him. I mean, what if he gets arrested?”

“I know full well he paid off the entire police department.” Tod deadpanned. “My cousin’s a cop, told me about it. Dude’s not going to jail anytime soon.”

The human authorities weren’t what he was worried about, but it was reassuring to know the cops wouldn’t also be on their backs. “I just… I don’t know. It worries me.”

“Go with your gut, kid.” Diane said. “If your gut says nail him, nail him.”

Aziraphale frowned. “My, Diane, the language.” 

“I’m seventy years old. I can say whatever I damn well please. And, as someone who’s been a lesbian for all seventy of her years, I’m telling you, don’t let a good chance go.” 

“You’re a lesbian too?” Julie raised an eyebrow. “Is anyone in this book club straight?”

“Nope.” Replied Tod. He did not choose to elaborate. 

“I suppose you’re right, of course.” Aziraphale sighed. “If I like him, I shouldn’t let him go. It’s just hard, you know?” 

The three humans nodded. 

The clock over the mantle dinged, signaling that the meeting was over. 

“You’re a catch, Az.” Diane said. “I’m sure he knows that.”

Aziraphale nodded. “Thank you all for your advice. I’m sure it’ll lead me in the right direction.” 

He was now more conflicted than ever. He was definitely, truly, most assuredly in love with Crowley. Crowley the demon. Crowley the bootlegger. Crowley, the man who was standing on the porch of his cottage when he got home. 

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked. But he couldn’t make his voice sound angry, or perturbed. 

“I just, and this is gonna sound absurd, but I wanted to check on you.”

“Why?”

“The lights in your cottage have been off for three days. I wondered if you had left or something.”

Aziraphale pushed past the demon, unlocked the door, and walked inside. Crowley remained on the porch. “Are you coming in or not?”

“I didn’t-“ Crowley decided to come inside. 

“I was at my book club, as a matter of fact. Not for three days, but just now.” Aziraphale left his book on one of his many shelves, and proceeded into the kitchen, where he put the kettle on. 

“You’re a part of a book club?” Crowley had regained some of the amusement that normally sprinkled his voice when talking to Aziraphale. “What’s it called?”

“It doesn’t have a name.” 

“That’s rubbish, you can't have a club without a name. You name it after an animal, or something cool, or something all of the members have in common.”

A terrible, awful name crossed Aziraphale’s mind. “Fine. It’s the Gay Book Club.”

“Gay as in happy, or…” 

“Gay as in homosexual.”

Crowley laughed. “Of course, you manage to find New York’s only homosexual book club. I would ask to join, if I liked reading.”

Just as the kettle began to shriek, Aziraphale poured out two cups. 

“Can’t you just miracle up tea?”

“Tastes better when you hand-make it.” Aziraphale bobbed the tea bag in his cup. 

“If you say so, angel. Frankly, I can’t tell the difference.”

There wasn’t much. But he wasn’t about to let Crowley win in an argument about tea. 

“So.” Aziraphale sipped his tea. “What have you been up to these last few days? Or do I not want to know?” 

“Business as usual. Prohibition has been a huge boon to evil. I suppose I have your side to thank for that.”

“We had nothing to do with it. The humans came up with that one. Terrible idea, really, but what can you do. They had good intentions, anyway.”

“Excuses, excuses.” Crowley smiled. But it soon left his face. “I’m sorry. I just… I can’t stop thinking about you. About the other night.”

“I know, Crowley.” Aziraphale placed his cup on the counter, taking care not to make the China clink. “I feel as though we’re going in circles.”

“You were right, when you said we can’t keep doing this. We can’t keep running away from each other.” 

“What else are we going to do, then? The book club told me to go for it. To say screw the consequences, and love you the way you deserve.” Fighting back tears, Aziraphale turned away. “But they don’t know the whole story. I can’t risk falling.” 

“They won’t know-“

“They’ll find out. Somehow, they’ll find out, and then we’ll never see each other again. I can’t live with that.” 

Crowley sighed, shutting his eyes. “Fine. Fine. We can just be friends, like we’ve been these past six thousand years.” He started for the door, but paused with his hand on the knob. “Just know, I’ll be ready if you ever change your mind.” 

And with that, Aziraphale was alone once again. He kicked one of his kitchen cabinets, mentally cursing at the pain that broke out in his foot. His book club would be disappointed in him. But he simply could not risk falling. Even if it tore him apart inside. 

——————

Aziraphale tried to work his way through this month’s book club pick, something by Byron. It suited his interests well enough, but he could barely think due to all of the noise. Yes, sure enough, Crowley was having another rollicking party, one that Aziraphale would not be attending. He could hear the sound of a jazz band over the crowd. 

The minutes ticked by, and he was still on the same page. Exasperated, he closed his book, making his way into the kitchen. Unfortunately, due to the fact alcohol was currently illegal, he didn’t have any in his cabinets. Which meant if he wanted to get drunk enough to ignore the noise, he’d have to go into the city. Which he really didn’t want to do. He could miracle something up, but he didn’t feel like it. Or he could sneak into Crowley’s party and steal a bottle of champagne. 

It wasn’t hard to crash the party. Aziraphale simply entered through the side gate, and no one questioned his being there. One of the many waiters helpfully gave him a bottle of what he hoped was champagne, and he made his way back to his cottage, where a couple he had never met before were currently playing tongue hockey on his porch swing. 

“Sorry to disturb you two,” he did not sound sorry, “but I live here. You’ll have to go.” 

As the two stumbled back towards the party, the man looked at Aziraphale. “Wait, you must be that neighbor I heard everyone talking about.”

Aziraphale scowled. “Only good things, I hope.”

“I heard from a friend of mine that she heard that her friend heard that her friend’s cousin, who happens to be a movie star-“ 

“Just get on with it!”

“Anyway, the scuttlebutt is that Mr Crowley, the guy who owns the house next door, is like super into you.”

“That’s piffle. Forget what you heard.” Aziraphale fumbled with the lock on the door. Finally, he managed to get it, and threw open his door. Closing it behind him, he leaned against the door, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. 

“Maybe I should move.” He muttered to himself, popping open the bottle and taking a swig. “Somewhere quieter. I’ve always heard that Boston is nice. Even if they did have that molasses flood.”

He sat against the door like that for a while, until his back started to hurt. Struggling to his feet, he grabbed his book off the shelf and settled back onto the couch. The book was much easier to read while pleasantly drunk. 

——————

Aziraphale managed to go several weeks without seeing Crowley. Every Saturday, Crowley would hold another massive party, and every Saturday, Aziraphale would sneak in and steal a bottle of alcohol. It was the least he could do to spite the demon. 

Secretly, he hoped that he might run into Crowley. Even if he couldn’t be with him romantically, he still missed seeing the demon’s cocky smile, and his golden, snakelike eyes. Perhaps the demon would invite him in for drinks, and they could talk, and watch the humans around them descend into a drunken mob. 

Heading back from one of these excursions, whistling out a tune he couldn’t remember the name of, he saw someone sitting on his porch swing. The swing was more of a curse than a blessing, by this point, and he was seriously considered taking it down. 

“Oi, sorry, mate, but the party’s next door. You’re on my property.” 

“That’s rich, coming from someone who’s currently stealing,” said the figure, in a voice that was unmistakably Crowley’s. 

“Way I see it, if alcohol is illegal anyway, is it still stealing?” Aziraphale sat down in the swing, causing it to sway. He popped open the bottle, took a swig, and handed it to Crowley. “Can’t say I expected to see you here.”

“Needed a break. Humans can get obnoxious.” Crowley muttered, taking a sip and handing it back to Aziraphale. “I liked it better when there were just two of them.”

“Well, ‘s too late now. They’re here to stay. At least until the apocalypse pops up. Any idea when that’s supposed to be?”

“Nope. The higher-ups don’t think to tell me that kind of thing. Hope it doesn’t happen too soon. I like it here.” 

“You were literally just complaining about the humans.”

“Yeah, but I mean, overall, it’s not that bad of a planet, is it? They’ve come up with some smashing inventions. The car, for instance.”

“Yes, which brutally pollutes the atmosphere and fills the air with lead.”

“Details.” Crowley picked at the paint on the swing. “Reading anything interesting in that book club of yours?”

“Something by Byron.”

“Ah, Byron. Now there was a fun man. Did you ever meet him?”

“No, I think I was busy helping deal with the aftermath of the American revolution.”

“Well, I’ll tell you. He was a wild, wild man. Good lover, too.”

Aziraphale felt a wave of jealousy pass over him. It was stupid, really, considering how long ago Byron died. But nonetheless, he was feeling rather less than angelic. “Really. I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, come on, angel. I know you’re not as innocent as you make out to be.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” 

“What, the party? No one actually cares if I’m there. All anyone cares about is free booze and a good time.” 

“Speaking of that, could you tell your partygoers where your property line ends? I’m tired of shooing people off of my porch and cleaning up the vomit in the morning.” 

“I’ll see what I can do.” 

It occurred to Aziraphale that Crowley’s arm was on the back of the swing, treacherously close to being around Aziraphale’s shoulders. Aziraphale stood, taking the bottle of champagne with him. “I’ve got to be off. Sit here longer if you want. At least it’ll keep the drunks away.” 

“Good night, angel.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Good night, Crowley.” 

——————

“Frankly, I think Byron’s use of verse-“

“No, no, clearly he was trying to emphasize-“ 

“Oh, that character. I hated him.”

This month’s book club meeting was becoming yet another shouting match. Each month they met at a different one of the members’ houses, and it was Aziraphale’s turn to host. A pleasant spread of cakes and biscuits, alongside tea was left mostly untouched in the middle of the coffee table. Most of the time, Aziraphale preferred to just sit and watch the action go down. 

Tod stood, leaning on his crutch with one hand and with his book in the other. “I think it’s _absurd_ that anyone would-“ He was cut off by the sound of a knock on the door. “Were we expecting anyone else?”

“Not that I know of.” Aziraphale said, though he had a feeling of who it might be. “Just a moment.”

He opened the door, and was greeted by another delivery man holding an even larger bouquet of flowers. “Delivery here for an… Ass-riel?” 

Aziraphale really wanted to launch himself into Long Island sound. “Yes, that’s me.” He took the flowers and handed the man a tip. 

The card on the flowers this time said, “Call me? -C.”

As he walked into the sitting room, Aziraphale shook his head. “I bet you can guess who these are from.”

Julie gasped. “Your lover.”

“He’s not- gosh, I don’t care anymore.”

Diane closed her book, interest now enraptured in Aziraphale’s drama. “Oh yeah, I forgot to ask, how’d it go?” 

“It didn’t go anywhere.” Aziraphale sat down heavily, fiddling with the card on the flowers. “It was my fault, really. But I just don’t think a relationship is good for either of us right now.”

“Az, you can’t do that. He clearly means a lot to you. Hell, he sent you flowers, you must mean something to him.” 

“I just don’t want to mess things up.” 

“There’s no right way to be in a relationship, son.” Tod said. “All you can do is try.” 

Aziraphale ran his thumb over the card’s text. “You all are right, of course.”

“You’re his next door neighbor. Walk over their right now and tell him you want to bone.” Diane suggested helpfully. 

“I am absolutely not going to do that.” Aziraphale smiled. “But I appreciate the help.”

After the book club members left, Aziraphale began cleaning up. It felt a shame to waste perfectly good cakes, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to eat them all, so he miracled them away, hopefully to some impoverished country to some poor children who deserved them. He put the flowers in a vase beside the other ones. They had lasted quite a long time, mainly because Aziraphale had willed them to. 

Another knock on the door rang through the house, and Aziraphale found himself annoyed. What he really wanted to do was make himself some tea, curl up on the couch, and maybe listen to his phonograph. 

He opened the door rather aggressively, and was greeted with Crowley’s lithe form. “Oh. It’s you.” 

“Not even a hello?”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Hi, angel. Listen, so, I was thinking. You haven’t really seen the inside of my house. Well, not while sober, at least. So I wanted to know if you wanted to come over and see it.”

“Sure.” The word slipped out before he could change his mind. “You just missed my book club.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I should’ve liked to have met the gay book club.” Crowley glanced around Aziraphale’s head. “I see you got my flowers.”

“They arrived during the meeting.” 

“I can only wonder what your friends might think of me.”

Aziraphale remembered Diane’s advice, albeit with less vulgar terms. “From what they’ve heard, they like you.”

“That’s good to hear. Have they ever been to one of my parties?”

“They have. As a matter of fact, they were the ones who abandoned me that time I ran into you.”

“Ah, so I have them to thank for finding you again.” 

He felt himself blush. “So are we going to your house or not?”

“Come on then.”

Aziraphale had known that Crowley’s house was elaborate, but he had no idea just how much until he really got to see the inside. There were dozens of rooms, each one more impersonal than the last. Some were dedicated entirely to chairs, there were three different dining rooms, and two rooms with completely untouched musical instruments. Twelve bedrooms, and more walk-in closets than Aziraphale cared to count. There were a number of sitting rooms, each with different views of the sound. 

“It’s… big.” Aziraphale said, as they walked through the third, or perhaps the fourth study. This one was the only one that seemed remotely used, with a typewriter on the desk. “The house. Very big.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Bit gaudy for my tastes.” 

“Oh, sure. But I like it. No one’s stopping me from riding my bicycle down the halls.”

As they made their way down the grand staircase, Aziraphale noted the echoes their voices made. “It must get lonely, being here all by yourself.”

“It does, yes.” Crowley’s voice was small. “That’s part of the reason why I host the parties. Makes the house feel more alive. Especially when I have to kick people out who’ve been trying to live in the bedrooms without my knowledge.”

“Does that really happen?”

“All the time. It’s infuriating.” 

They entered a room through a large set of ornate double doors, and Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. The room was a fantastically huge ballroom, made of highly polished granite, with a grand piano and room for an orchestra at the back, and a massive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. 

“It’s entirely made of diamonds.” Crowley said, his shoes clicking on the granite, echoing throughout the cavernous room. “The chandelier, I mean. It’s why I bought the place.”

“It’s beautiful.” Aziraphale’s gaze was glued to the ceiling. Not only was there the chandelier, but the ceiling was painted with scenes of angels, demons, and other biblical figures. 

He realized that Crowley was holding out a hand. “Care to dance? It is a ballroom, after all.” 

Aziraphale felt a lump in his throat. “There’s no music.”

“I can fix that.” Crowley waved a hand, and suddenly music began to play from a distant phonograph. 

Taking a deep breath, Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand, and they began a slow waltz. It was intimate, despite the massive size of the room. Soon, Aziraphale found himself focused less on the waltz and more on Crowley’s hand in his, and the fact he desperately wanted to see Crowley’s golden eyes, lurking behind those sunglasses. 

The song came to an end, but Aziraphale didn’t move away. Instead, he reached up, took Crowley’s glasses off, and stuck them in the demon’s suit pocket. His hands remained on Crowley’s lapel. Closing his eyes, he only had to wait a moment for Crowley to close the gap between them. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley muttered, pressing their foreheads together. “Angel.” 

“Crowley.” Was all that Aziraphale could say. He remained silent as Crowley led him back through the house, up to the bedroom he recognized from their previous encounter. 

He was something less than silent as the night progressed. 

——————

Aziraphale wondered if he had made a mistake, as he stared at the ceiling’s many embellishments. The demon was once again plastered to his side, sleeping soundly. Crowley had always been more skilled at sleeping than Aziraphale. Then again, Aziraphale didn’t quite see the point of sleeping if one didn’t need to do it in the first place. 

It was an indulgence, sleeping with Crowley. An indulgence he really quite enjoyed. And one that he should not have done. But god, it felt good, to make love to someone he genuinely enjoyed being around, and to wake up next to him. He supposed that that was how romantic love was supposed to feel. Aziraphale didn’t even know he could feel romantic love, not until he had gotten to know Crowley. 

He ran a hand through Crowley’s hair. It was pleasantly tousled, far different from the chaotic structure it normally had. It was cute, to see Crowley in such a defenseless state. 

Aziraphale closed his eyes. He really should leave. His bosses… but it was so warm and comfortable there, and he didn’t want to disturb Crowley. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to try and sleep a little. 

——————

“You’ve got some explaining to do.” The angel Gabriel said, a disapproving expression on their face. “And it better be good, because we’re not just going to overlook having sexual intercourse with a demon. We expected better from you, Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale cringed. “It’s… for a reason, you see.” He quickly had to come up with that reason. “I’m trying to distract him, in order to work on doing good within the city. I’ve already done some excellent work-“

“That excuse might’ve worked in the past, but not anymore. It’s been one time too many.”

“What are you saying?”

“We’re calling you back to heaven. Have fun being a desk jockey for the rest of eternity.” 

“No! No, please!” Aziraphale yelled, as his vision began to turn to black. “Please, I’ll do whatever you ask, don’t send me back!”

——————

“NO!” 

Aziraphale bolted upright, his whole body sweating. He looked around him. He was still in Crowley’s room. Still there. Still on earth. He held onto the sheets with an iron grip. 

“What? What’s wrong?” Crowley asked, putting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. 

“Nightmare.” Aziraphale swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “I can’t stay here.” 

“Was it something to do with me?” Crowley reached out, snagging one of Aziraphale’s wrists in his hand.

“I… we can’t keep doing this.” 

“Aziraphale, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m sorry. I have to go.” Wrenching his hand from Crowley’s grip, he miracled clothes on and left the house as fast as he could. 

Aziraphale didn’t want to go home, but he couldn’t stay there. So he started walking until he found a cab, which took him to the train, which took him into the city. 

It was a bit early in the day to be visiting a speakeasy, but they were willing to serve if you were willing to pay. And Aziraphale was more than willing. 

——————

After a few days of getting cut off at speakeasies, he sobered himself up and went to the Met. He knew it would do him no good to remain in a drunken stupor for the foreseeable future, so he decided to distract himself with art instead. 

Meandering through the ancient Egyptian collection, he noticed two figures in a carving that looked oddly familiar. Sure enough, it was a carving of himself and Crowley, several thousand years ago. They were pictured as two winged gods, fighting with a sword in Aziraphale’s hands and a knife in Crowley’s. 

He remembered ancient Egypt with the same kind of fondness one remembered a friend’s dog who used to bite your ankles, but your friend insisted was really a sweetheart. It wasn’t without its perks, of course. Things were simpler back then. The lines between good and evil were less blurred. The good was really good, and the bad was really bad. The Egyptians persecuted the Israelites, so God swept over the land with plagues and disasters, and Moses led them away. Aziraphale, naturally, played a hand in all of this, and left with them when Moses parted the Red Sea. 

It was so, so long ago. 

Aziraphale wished things could be as simple as they were back then. 

“Hey, that relief kind of looks like you.” 

Turning, Aziraphale was relieved when he saw it was just Diane from book club. “It’s uncanny, isn’t it?”

“The other one looks like that neighbor of yours. The one you’re in love with.” Diane pondered this for a moment. “Maybe it was a past life, and you two were reincarnated.”

Aziraphale almost laughed at the concept. Though it wasn’t really that odd. Aziraphale had been through quite a few corporations since Egypt. “Maybe.”

“You sound sad, kid. Things not work out?”

“Well, it did, but then I ruined it again. I haven’t seen him in a couple of days. I don’t know what I’ll say when I do see him.” 

“Apologize, tell him you’ve been a shithead, and hope everything works out.” 

“Again with the swearing, Diane. You know I don’t like it.”

“You British, all prim and proper and real wet blankets.” She pretended to look angry, but there was still a sparkle in her eye. “So you’ve come to the Met to drown your worries in dusty artwork?”

“Only after going on a four-day-long bender. I’ve still got the hangover.” Which was half true. He had miracled away any headache, but one persistent one lurked behind his eyes. 

“That’s no way to deal with your problems. It’s a good way to get yourself killed.”

“I know, I know. I’ve just been in a bit of a downward spiral is all.”

“Yeah, I guessed that part. Really, what’s stopping you from going to him right now?”

Aziraphale leaned against the barrier intended to prevent people from getting close to the art. “Life, I suppose.”

“That’s a terrible excuse.”

“It’s like my whole life has been made of bad excuses lately.” He stared at the carving. 

“Listen, kid, I’ve gotta go. My girlfriend’s meeting me for lunch, and I hate being late.”

“Of course. Don’t let me keep you.”

“I hope you figure this out, Az. For your sake as well as mine. I can’t keep giving you advice. Eventually I’ll run out.”

A hint of a smile crossed Aziraphale’s face. “I thought you had infinite wisdom.”

“I do, but not infinite advice. There’s a difference.”

Aziraphale knew he couldn’t stay in the city forever. He knew he had to stop running away from his fears, even if running away was all he wanted to do. Again. 

He caught the first train back, and found on his doorstep a single coral rose. Attached was a card that said, “Tell me what’s wrong. -C.” 

Taking the rose inside, Aziraphale put it into a vase. He was running out of room on the table for all of these flowers. He tried to remember what coral signified, in his limited knowledge of flower language. After his knowledge failing him, he flipped through a book on horticulture until he found what he was looking for. 

_Desire._

Of course. He didn’t expect anything less from Crowley. 

Picking up the phone, he tried calling Crowley’s house. No answer. He called again. Nothing. 

Taking a deep breath, he walked over to Crowley’s front door, knocking as loudly as he could. A footman answer the door. 

“Ah, I’m looking for Mr. Crowley.” He said. 

The footman looked as though he had never smiled before in his life. “Sorry. He’s not home.”

The footman started to close the door, but Aziraphale stopped it with a hand. “Well, when he gets back, can you tell him I was looking for him? The name’s Aziraphale.”

“Fine. Good day.” It did not sound like a sincere statement as the footman shut the door in his face. 

Aziraphale returned home, fuming at the rudeness of the footman. But where was Crowley? Not hiding from him, hopefully. 

Settling down for the night with a book, Aziraphale looked over one last time at Crowley’s house. All of the lights were off, except for those in the kitchens. Aziraphale sighed. He’d simply have to wait. 

Saturday rolled around again, and with the day rolled in partygoers. As soon as the sky began to dim, people poured into Crowley’s house and yard, hoping for a night of excitement. 

Aziraphale waited a little while, until the party was really going, before he went over. The party’s throngs were especially crowded tonight, and he could hardly breathe, much less see over the people. He searched around for the demon. So far, no luck. That was, until he tripped in the same spot he had tripped last time, and was caught by the same pair of arms. 

“Aziraphale.” Crowley said, with an air of mild surprise. 

“Crowley.” Without hesitation, Aziraphale kissed Crowley. 

Though the demon seemed interested at first, after a moment, he tore himself away. “Aziraphale, wait. We can’t do this until you explain to me why you left.” 

“I know. But can we do this somewhere private? I can barely hear myself think.” 

“Of course. Follow me.” Taking Aziraphale by the hand, Crowley led them up to his study, the one Aziraphale remembered most from the tour. “No one else comes up here. Not even the servants.”

“Alright. Er, you can sit down if you’d like.” 

Crowley sat in one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Continue.”

“Ok. First of all, I’d like to apologize for being a complete ass. I keep disappearing, and being an overall terrible person to be around.”

“It’s not-“

“It is my fault, Crowley.” Aziraphale interjected. “It is completely and wholly my own fault. I’ve been a coward, afraid of addressing my own feelings because of how I might get affected, without even thinking about yours.”

“Thank you.”

“Second thing. The reason why I left the other night was because I dreamt that my superiors caught the two of us together, and sent me back up there to spend the rest of eternity working a desk job. I know now my reaction was a bit extreme, but nonetheless, it addressed my fear and brought it forward. Because I don’t want to spend the rest of eternity up there, without you.” 

Crowley nodded. He was being surprisingly quiet throughout all of this. 

“Third thing. My book club friends have been telling me for weeks I should just suck it up and… well, they used some rather vulgar terms I won’t repeat, but you get the point. I need to stop making excuses, and really and truly face how I feel.” Aziraphale took a deep breath. “The final thing-“

“My, this is quite the laundry list.” And there was Crowley’s cheek, back from the war. 

“Yes. The final thing I need to tell you is that I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time. But I’ve never wanted to face it, never could face it until now.”

Crowley stood. He cupped Aziraphale’s face in his hands. And without a word, kissed him with more passion than Aziraphale had ever encountered in the past. He felt himself being pushed up onto the desk as he parted his lips, and Crowley’s forked tongue darted past them. 

“Don’t think I’ll ever get used to that.” Aziraphale muttered as he pulled away for breath, smiling. 

“You have to promise me one thing, angel.” 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t run away again. Please. Every time you do, I worry you won’t come back.”

Aziraphale reached up and took Crowley’s sunglasses off, putting them on the table. He looked him right in his golden eyes, and said, “I’m never running like that again. I’m going to face my fears.” He slid a hand into Crowley’s hair. “I love you.” 

“Go- well, He knows I love you too.” Crowley said. He ground his hips against Aziraphale’s, and the angel couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped. 

“He had better not, but please continue.” 

——————

Aziraphale awoke to find himself spooning with Crowley. His nose was buried in the demon’s hair. It smelled pleasantly like soap and some kind of expensive cologne. He inhaled deeply, relishing the scent. 

“I forgot to say,” Aziraphale whispered, hoping to not wake Crowley up, “thank you for the flowers.”

“Did you catch the meaning of the rose?” Clearly, Aziraphale had failed once again in being quiet. 

“Yes. Desire. Very clever.”

“I thought so.” He felt Crowley tense in his arms. “You’re not getting up, are you?”

“Not unless you want me to.”

“No. You’re warm. And soft. Like a blanket.”

“I don’t know if that’s flattering or not.”

“Just take it as a compliment.” 

“Alright. I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I like to imagine Aziraphale’s human friend’s have nicknames for him because really, it’s a mouthful. Also, that Crowley has a snake tongue that can taste the air like a lizard because why not.


End file.
